She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Gerald saw her extract something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. ” “You want to be free and so forth, yes.
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